Not Just Another Walk In The Park
by Wuchel1
Summary: John Reese thought that taking Bear for a nice walk down at the dog park was a great idea ... until he ran into Bernadette. This is a companion piece to 'Lost in Translation'.


**Disclaimer:** **The characters of ****_Person of Interest_**** don't belong to me. I'm just borrowing them with no intention of gaining any profit by doing so.**

**Author notes:** This is a companion piece to _Lost in Translation_. I suggest reading that story first.

**Acknowledgements: **Huge thanks to my awesome beta scully1138! There would have been some really stupid mistakes if she hadn't taken the time to fix my clumsy attempt at writing in English. You rule!

Any mistakes that are still left are all my own.

* * *

**Not Just Another Walk In The Park**

Bear bounded up the stairs to the first floor of the derelict library, lumbering happily along the familiar route towards the secret lair of Harold Finch. Finch was still positioned exactly the same as Bear and Reese had left him two hours ago, sitting ramrod straight at his desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard while his eyes were focused on the many monitors in front of him.

Upon hearing Bear's paws scuttle on the library's floor, Harold Finch's fingers ceased their dance over the keys and he swiveled the chair around to face the approaching dog.

Tail wagging excitedly and with his favorite tennis ball in his mouth, Bear obediently followed Harold's command to sit.

"Did you have a nice walk, Bear?" Harold asked the dog, holding out his hand in silent command for the dog to release its hold over the beloved toy. Bear let go of the saliva soaked ball, tilted his head to the side and pointedly stared at the pocket of Harold's vest where the human usually kept the delicious treats Bear would do pretty much anything for.

Finch winced at the slobbery feeling to the ball and wrapped it carefully in a handkerchief before placing it on the desk beside his keyboard. Bear visibly perked up even more as Finch's hand moved towards his pocket, the dog's tail drumming out an excited rhythm on the floor.

"There you go." Harold said, holding out a treat, which Bear eagerly accepted. Finch more felt than heard John Reese's approach. "I was about to call you, Mr. Reese." Harold said, still doting on the dog. "Detective Carter was able to -" Looking up, the words died on Harold's lips as he did a double-take. "Dear Lord, what happened to you?"

Reese stood just past the retracted metal gate, his trademark suit wrinkled-up and a muddy mess and his hair - usually cemented to his head - sticking up in places. Although, he obviously tried to keep his expression neutral, John was clearly annoyed. Somehow managing to make it sound like an accusation he half whispered, half grumbled, "We ran into Bernadette at the park."

Finch was momentarily confused about how running into the chatty lady with the high pitched, grating voice could have anything to do with Reese's suit ending up in such a poor condition, until ... "Ah", Finch said, his lip curling into a lopsided smirk, "Ms. Fluffles."

Reese bared his teeth in a smile so cold, it could have frozen the flame of a burning candle. "Yes. Ms. Fluffles."

* * *

_- two hours earlier -_

Reese was bored out of his mind while waiting at the Library for Finch to do his magic with the computer. All his guns that he kept at their unofficial headquarters had been stripped and cleaned and re-assembled far too many times already, judging by Finch's disapproving scowl that had burned at the back of John's neck each time.

He was getting restless, wanting to do ... something, instead of sitting around waiting. Bear wasn't faring any better. Having been cooped up inside the library for hours, the Malinois looked about ready to venture back into the _'Rare First Edition'_ section again, just to get some attention and hopefully some much needed exercise.

Taking pity on the dog, and also on himself, Reese decided to take Bear down to the park to play a game or two of fetch and let the dog mingle with his canine friends for a while. Finch didn't even look up, just mumbled "I'll call you if I find anything," to his monitors, as Reese, with a tail-wagging Bear by his side, checked out.

A short but heavy spell of rain had managed to cool the stuffy late-summer air down a few degrees. John took a deep breath as he and Bear stepped outside, relishing the chance to be breathing fresh, instead of dusty, air.

Bear was in his element at the dog park and John was content to just stretch his legs and watch his ex-military dog playfully interact with the other dogs at the park. There might have even been the onset of a silly grin on Reese's face, which was immediately a thing of the past when he heard the unforgettable, high pitched, grating voice of Bernadette's over the general row of the busy park. "Ms. Fluffles! Come here, Ms. Fluffles!"

John instinctively checked for possible escape routes, but found himself boxed in by the fence at his back, a group of Pomeranians and other assorted yapping lap dogs with a few confused-looking bigger dogs among them to his right, the vast open field without any cover in front of him and Bernadette and her group of equally chatty dog owner girlfriends to his left.

"John?" Reese winced. _Too late. _He turned - noting that the pack of ladies had already expertly surrounded him - and tugged his lips into what he hoped looked like a pleasantly surprised smile. "Bernadette. Nice to meet you again. Ladies." John said, greeting the group with a nod of his head.

The woman beamed at him, obviously pleased that he had remembered her name. John felt extremely uncomfortable underneath the unveiled scrutiny of five pairs of eyes whose owners had clearly no idea who he was but seemed to like what they were seeing. He finally understood why Finch had felt it best to leave these women to their belief that he was not _'fair game'_, so to speak.

"Girls", Bernadette nearly overflowed with excitement, "this is John. _Harold's_ John." A chorus of _"Aah's"_ and _"Ooh's"_ erupted around Reese and John decided right there and then that he would heed Harold Finch's wisdom and definitely not contradict that statement. With his mind racing, John tried to figure out a way to escape without it looking too much like he was fleeing the scene. He almost didn't hear Bernadette asking if Harold was with him. just barely catching himself from dumbly uttering _"Huh?"_ Instead he replied smoothly. "No, he had to work." _Work!_ _That's it!_

Ignoring the disappointed sounds around him, Reese raised his arm, checking his watch. "As a matter of fact", John apologized, "I have to get back myself."

"You two really should take a break every once in a while and enjoy some quality time with Bear." Bernadette said with a pout. There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the pack and John just shrugged, inwardly pleased with himself at having pulled off actually sounding sorry that he had to leave so soon himself. After all, one didn't get to be an international spy without having some acting talent. Besides, he really did have to get back to the library.

"Next time, then?" One of the other women chimed in and John really started to wonder what Harold must have told the women about John and him for them to be so eager to have the two men around.

"We'll try." Again, very pleased with himself at sounding sincere. Reese sought out Bear, who was romping around with two other dogs about his size, a Great Dane and a ball of wool that Reese assumed to be Ms. Fluffles. A short whistle caught the Malinois's attention and he obediently made his way to his master.

"Ladies", Reese said, intentionally turning on his charm, receiving six identically smitten smiles in return, "It was a pleasure meeting you." He started to move forward, but sudden movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he stopped. Before he had a chance to completely turn, something fast and heavy pummeled into him, bowling him over and knocking his breath out of his lungs as he hit the wet, muddy ground hard.

He might have zoned out for a second there, John wasn't sure. Dazed, he clumsily tried to get rid of the wet washcloth that was being wiped over his face only to have his hands connect with the furry heads of two dogs, that were literally showering him with their slobbery love.

"Ms. Fluffles! Bear! Get off!" A blended chorus of voices cried, Bernadette's high pitched voice dominating the ruckus going on around him. Groaning, John sat up, discouraging Bear from continuing to bestow any further affection on him by a sharp Dutch command, and stared dumbly at the happily panting face of Ms. Fluffles while Bernadette was profusely apologizing. However, John didn't really listen, having a hard time reconciling his former mental picture of a cute, fluffy and spoiled rotten lap dog with what had actually just hit him. _That's Ms. Fluffles?!_

* * *

_- at the library - _

"Judging by your appearance I'd say she rather likes you, Mr. Reese." Harold stated dryly, ignoring the deathly glare Reese leveled at him. Bear chose that moment to whine softly, in hopes of maybe snatching another treat. Leaning forward Harold scratched the dog under its chin, smiling. "Even Bear agrees."

"He", Reese said, pointing accusingly at the innocently panting dog, "was in on it."

"Were you now, Bear? Bad dog." Harold contradicted his words by affectionately patting Bear's head, causing the rhythm of thumps on the floor caused by Bear's tail to accelerate. John sighed, barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes.

"Well, you could have warned me, you know. And next time _you_ see Bernadette, you can give her the dry cleaner's bill. She insisted."

Finch looked at him perplexed. "I don't think that suit is salvageable."

"Whatever." Reese breathed, not really caring at all about the fate of one of his many similar looking outfits. However, he was damn sure that he'd rather go another round against the Russian mob, outnumbered and with the odds against him, than ever being swooned over by Bernadette and her friends - and, apparently, their dogs - again.

At Finch's raised eyebrow John sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. Time to change the subject. "You were about to call me?"

"I was." Finch said, turning his attention back to his monitors, making a mental note to check for security cameras around the dog park, which might have captured John's unfortunate meeting with Ms. Fluffles in hopes of adding another recording of one of John's more hapless exploits to his collection of possible future blackmail material. "But it can wait. I suggest a new suit ... and some soap and water."

"Funny." Reese's expression darkened, but looking down at himself, he couldn't really disagree. He silently pivoted on his heels, stalking down the hallway, grousing, "_Ms. Fluffles_. Who the hell names their Great Dane _Ms. Fluffles_?"

_- The End - _


End file.
